A shadow on the sun

Chapter 10

Cain awoke to the faint beeping of machines, his body heavy and sluggish, surrounded by the sterile scent of antiseptic and the faint hum of hospital equipment. His mind was foggy, a blur of images flashing before his eyes, none of them making sense at first. He blinked, trying to focus on his surroundings.

The first thing he noticed was the cold bite of an IV needle taped to his arm. His limbs ached, and every breath sent a dull pain through his chest, though it was muted by whatever drugs they had pumped into him. A nurse stood beside his bed, her back to him, checking the vitals on a monitor. Just outside the door, he could see the silhouettes of two armed guards through the frosted glass.

Not a normal hospital, he realized. This wasn't just any ICU; this was NADRA's intensive care unit. Michael had brought him here. That much was clear. But why?

Cain's mind raced. He remembered Charlotte's crazed eyes, the deadly gas, and her lethal blade piercing his abdomen. He winced at the thought, a flare of anger rising inside him. Of course, Michael couldn't let anyone know his daughter had gone rogue, murdering the other candidates in a blood-fueled frenzy. So Cain decided in that moment:

Pretend you don't remember.

The nurse turned, noticing he was awake. Her eyes widened in mild surprise before she quickly composed herself and approached the bedside, running through the usual checks.

"You're awake," she said softly, as if afraid to disturb him. She adjusted a monitor, glancing at the readings. "How are you feeling?"

Cain grunted in response, then forced himself to speak. "What happened?"

She hesitated, then gave him a sympathetic look. "You don't remember?"

Cain shook his head, feigning confusion. The nurse nodded, her expression shifting to a practiced calm. "There was an incident during the raid. After the main beast was killed, it released a toxic gas. It killed almost everyone on the spot, and in the chaos, a secondary beast attacked."

She paused, as if trying to gauge his reaction, before continuing. "That's where you got your injuries. The beast was incredibly strong. It used energy to enhance its blows. Some of them pierced through your torso, puncturing your diaphragm, lungs, and heart. You were also left with a broken arm, leg, several broken ribs, and multiple fractures, including to your skull."

Cain processed the information, suppressing the memories of Charlotte's blade piercing through him. The gas? The beast? That's the story they were going with. It made sense. Easier to blame some monster than to admit the truth.

The nurse sighed. "The doctors worked tirelessly to keep you alive. You flatlined multiple times... Your heart just kept giving up."

Cain's eyes narrowed slightly. Flatlined? He'd come that close to death.

"I have to see Michael," he rasped, his voice hoarse from disuse.

The nurse frowned. "You're in no condition to—"

"I need to talk to him. Now." His voice was firm, unyielding. He didn't care about the pain. He didn't care about the aftermath. He needed to know what came next.

The nurse looked reluctant but eventually relented, helping him sit up, though every movement sent sharp jolts of pain through his body. Cain grit his teeth, enduring it. She tried to stop him, but he waved her off, dragging his IV stand with him. The guards outside straightened, following as he limped down the hallway, the sterile tiles cool beneath his bare feet.

Each step was a reminder of his broken body, but Cain didn't care. His mind was fixed on one thing—Michael. The deal. He needed to know if he had won.

Eventually, he found Michael's office. Through the slightly ajar door, Cain could see Charlotte standing inside, her back to him, talking quietly with her father. The sight of her made his blood boil, the rage bubbling just beneath the surface.

As he stepped inside, the room fell silent. Charlotte turned first, her expression tight with guilt. Her white hair, the hallmark of their angelic bloodline, framed her face. Her eyes, normally sharp and composed, were soft as she met Cain's gaze.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice laced with regret. "For everything."

Cain didn't even acknowledge her. His eyes remained fixed on Michael, ignoring Charlotte's apology entirely as if she didn't exist. She might as well have been a ghost.

"I don't care about apologies," Cain said coldly, his voice low but carrying enough weight. "Did I get the position? Did I win?"

Michael looked at him for a moment, then leaned back in his chair, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You bruised Charlotte," he said, his tone both amused and impressed. "No one's ever done that before. You won the moment you did that."

Cain exhaled, his chest tightening with something close to relief, but his expression remained hard. He didn't care about the dead. He didn't care about the massacre.

All that matters is that I survived and got what I came for.

Michael stood, walking over to Cain with that same amused grin. "I have to admit, Cain. You impressed me. But this is only the beginning. There's a lot more I need to teach you, and you're going to have to learn fast."

Cain nodded, feeling the weight of those words. But in his mind, all he could think about was how close he had come to dying. How his life had been in the hands of Charlotte, and he had barely survived. And then there was Ares, his offer still looming in the back of Cain's mind like a dark shadow.

He had survived, yes. But at what cost?